


Gradual Release of Responsibility

by wren_st_simon



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Smut, What is Plot?, just straight up smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 15:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wren_st_simon/pseuds/wren_st_simon
Summary: Tension builds around Waverly and Nicole's first time--something's gotta give.





	Gradual Release of Responsibility

Nicole and Waverly had been watching far too much Netflix.

Over the last week they’d fallen into a routine: meet at Nicole’s place after work, make dinner together, and then watch TV. Simple enough, but neither of them discussed the main purpose of the routine: to distract themselves long enough to get to a reasonable bed time.

Neither Waverly nor Nicole was new to sex, and so it had been easy for them to discuss where things stood between them. Waverly’s overwhelming feeling was that she’d like to take dating a woman in parts: first the emotional part and then the sexual part.

So when they got to the “Are you still watching?” screen, they both laughed nervously.

“Do you want to go to bed?” Waverly asked.

“Hmm, I’m not really that tired,” Nicole said.

Waverly stood up, pulling Nicole with her, “I’m not really that tired either.”

 

Waverly didn’t have pajamas at Nicole’s yet, and this was strategic: nothing said “let’s just cuddle” like drawstring, high-school sweatpants and a Tweety Bird t-shirt. Nicole had a strict no-outside-pants-in-the-bed rule, and Waverly had a strict no-sleeping-in-a-bra rule, and so, for the third night in a row, Waverly found herself minimally clothed, in her girlfriend’s bed, her unspent desire like a beehive inside of her.

They were kissing, hands in hair and bites on lips, when Waverly slowed the pace. Nicole noticed and slowed as well, eventually stopped altogether and asked, “Is everything okay?”

“I was just thinking,” Waverly said.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, I want you,” Waverly said in her matter-of-fact, research voice, which charmed Nicole; of course Waverly had analysed her lust. “We keep doing this and I keep wanting you, and I know that you want me, too—” Nicole nodded her agreement and encouragement. Waverly continued,  “And I’ve been nervous, you know, so we’ve tried this time thing, this waiting thing, but I don’t actually think waiting is helping. Like I can kind of just feel the pressure building, you know?”

Nicole thought for a second, tilted her head slightly in the half-darkness and said, “Yeah, I do know. Like the more time we give us, the more I feel this big Our First Time looming over our heads.”

“Yes! Exactly.” Waverly said, and they were both silent for a beat. “I think,” she started, “That instead of time, what I actually need is _guidance_.”

“Guidance?”

“Yeah,” Waverly paused and brought them closer, spoke the word just in front of Nicole’s waiting mouth. “Guidance.”

Nicole moved her mouth closer, still not kissing. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I do,” said Waverly, and brought their lips together this time.

The pace picked up again, and it felt good. It felt like the right direction; Waverly had a plan, and that was always a good sign.

Waverly put both of her hands in Nicole’s hair, her fingertips firm on her scalp. Nicole put one hand inside Waverly’s shirt, onto her ribs, positioned her leg between Waverly’s thighs and pulled her closer. They stopped kissing and just breathed deeply, their faces touching and mouths open while Waverly rocked against Nicole’s leg.

Before she could stop herself, Waverly said it: “Nicole, I want you to touch yourself.”

Nicole nodded against Waverly’s face and turned her mouth to kiss her, hard, mouth slightly open. Nicole removed her hand from inside Waverly’s shirt and moved it down her own body.

“Can I take my shirt off?” Nicole asked, and as a reply Waverly grabbed the hem and pulled upwards, Nicole rolling away slightly to free her shoulder pinned to the bed.

“Me too.” And the tank top went.

They kissed, bare chests pressed tight, both slightly shy again but not wanting to allow it to slow them down. The mood had shifted—this was happening.

Waverly took Nicole’s right hand, brought it up between them, and pressed Nicole’s palm to her cheek. She brought Nicole’s hand to her lips now and kissed her palm, her fingers, her fingertips. Waverly locked eyes with Nicole, dipped Nicole’s index and middle finger into her mouth and wetted them to the second knuckle.

Nicole’s head dropped back at the pleasure and the suggestion of it, and Waverly kissed her milk-white throat, under her chin and the soft muscles of her jaw while she guided Nicole’s hand down her body, letting go at the top of Nicole’s underwear so Nicole could continue—or not—on her own.

But Nicole showed no signs of stopping. She had never waited this long to sleep with a girlfriend, but she’d also never been this in love. She wondered sometimes how the waiting had affected her love. Their slow explorations had allowed her learn Waverly’s body in a specific way: the beauty mark on her throat, the dip at the back of her skull, her hot breath on Nicole’s ear, and the taste of her. It was these small things, separately and collectively, that made up Nicole’s love. And now, understanding what they were moving towards, Nicole was happy to have spent the time getting to know the soft, blonde hairs on Waverly’s belly. There’s no going back to the time before; once that match is struck, it cannot unburn.

Nicole slipped her hand lower, dipped her fingers into her own wetness and back up to circle her clit. Waverly held her hand on Nicole’s arm, feeling her muscles move with each stroke.

They looked at each other for a while, and when Nicole became slightly abashed she kissed Waverly. The positioning was less than ideal, her hand restricted between her thighs, but she was so turned on that it didn’t matter. She wondered what kind of release she was after—the quick kind, when you have ten minutes before you have to leave for work, but you know that if you don’t you’ll be uncomfortable and frustrated all day. Or the lazy Sunday morning kind, when there’s time to bring yourself close and flirt with the edge.

But Waverly’s teeth on her earlobe answered that question for her; this wouldn’t last much longer.

“Nicole?”

“Yes,” Nicole said in an exhale.

“Can I put my hand on yours?”

“Yes.”

They were facing each other, and Waverly moved her left hand down Nicole’s arm, under the top of her underwear and onto Nicole’s hand. Her fingers were slick and warm and Waverly’s hand moved with Nicole’s, committing each movement to memory: circular, counter-clockwise, slightly higher than where she touched herself. They stayed a while like this, kissing and rocking together, their hands between Nicole’s legs. Waverly’s want **,** once a low hum, was now buzzing, and she needed more.

“Can I touch you now?”

Nicole laughed a little, with mirth and pure arousal. “Baby, you can do anything you want.”

Nicole moved her hand up slightly to give Waverly access, resting her fingers in the tight curls of her pubic hair. Her left hand moved to the back of Waverly’s head, grabbed a handful of Waverly’s hair and pulled her head back slightly to place wet kisses on her neck and chest as Waverly’s hand explored, over Nicole’s budded clit and her slick, swollen entrance. Waverly made up her mind.

“I want to fuck you.”

“Yes," Nicole exhaled, "please.” She lifted her hips and Waverly pulled her underwear down, just enough, and then she was inside of her, two fingers, wet and deep.

Nicole moved her hand back down to touch herself again, and it didn’t take long then. Waverly moved down slightly for better positioning, and as soon as she took Nicole’s nipple in her mouth it was over. Nicole made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper; Waverly watched, Nicole’s eyes closed and mouth open, pulsing from the inside.

Nicole lay on her back now, and Waverly kissed her way up Nicole’s torso, finally resting half on top of Nicole, her head tucked into Nicole’s neck, chest still heaving. Nicole’s puddled, post-orgasm thoughts were becoming solid again, and she said, “Thank you.”

“Yeah?”

“God yes.” Nicole’s breathing was returning to normal. “Sorry, if you just give me a minute I can—”

“No, no,” Waverly interrupted. “I feel really good. I feel like that was enough, if that’s okay.”

Nicole kissed her hairline, pulled her closer and said, “Of course that's okay.”

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever done, I think.”

“Yeah?” Nicole said, and Waverly could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah. But still,” she said, with a smile of her own, “Maybe I’m okay if you feel like you owe me one.”

 

Just before dawn, when a pair of headlights moved across the ceiling of Nicole’s second floor bedroom and woke both women up, Nicole repaid the favour.


End file.
